The scenery in the immediate vicinity was unspectacular to me. I had been here before and it was similar to the river north, high banks covered in weeds and grassy pastures above. But obviously it was peaceful and calm and I love sneaking up on cattle in the fog alongside cattle. This kayak is so sleek and easy to propel across the water - such a pleasure to witness an old design, perfected by the First Nation's peoples, holding up so well in the thrill and function departments.
Then, the river changed. Ahead a glade of willows, forest oaks and others towered over a near vertical bank on the outside of a sharp bend to the east. Beautiful, I thought about a photo but continued. No more than a hundred yards, another bend to the right, south, similarly forested. The early morning light, already dimmed by fog was being filtered through a green canopy over the river. Enchanting! Another bend, this time to the right, out of sight, more than ninety degrees. The far bank particularly lush, giant bamboo, fallen trees or those that had floated down years before, formed a ominous snag below the bank. This setting was alien to me, no gums, these trees were European and Asian I supposed, the bank was unusually steep, obviously banked by stone. Just as I was marvelling at this scenery the kayak slewed around out or control. A real swirling eddy, unbelievable. I had thought that this lazy, underfed river would never be so animated except in heavy flood. My mind raced, I daydreamed of running a shanty boat through the bends, poling off the banks, trying to avoid snags. The vessel swirling about pirouetting as she went.
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| Returning to the bends from the south. |
I roused myself, completed the paddle and returned to the ramp. But in my head were dream thoughts just like Toad after his horse-drawn carriage was wrecked by a speeding motorcar, "toot toot".
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